


Riddler's Remorse

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugs, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Nygmobblepositivity, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, Recreational Drug Use, Repressed Feelings, Voyeurism, nygmobblepot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 10:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Sixth Fic for Nygmobblepot Week. Prompt: 'Jealousy'Ed is struggling to prepare to take centre stage in Gotham as 'The Riddler'.So, he summons up a ghost to help him.





	Riddler's Remorse

Ed strikes another pose in front of the mirror and winces at how inelegant it looks.  
He has deliberately selected the pose to be intimidating and dramatic but instead his lanky frame just emphasises his awkwardness.

Behind him, hanging on his wardrobe door, his green suit seems to regard him with scorn.  
Ed knows it’s ridiculous to assign emotions to pieces of inanimate clothing but for some reason illogical notions always seem to pop into his head when he feels ill at ease.

He is practicing. The last time he has to do so before the main event: the grand reveal of his true self to Gotham.  
And he’s blowing it.

He rotates his shoulders, resuming a neutral stance. He takes a deep breath trying to delude himself that the colour in his cheeks he can see in his reflection is from the heat of the day, not embarrassment.  
He also sees the portrait of he and Oswald sitting on the easel in the background and feels the twinging annoyance that has been nagging him since he started this practice session jab him sharply. He brought it into the room for motivation but all it’s doing is throwing his shortcomings into sharp relief.

Ed is sure that Oswald had never needed to practice in front of an imaginary crowd while trying to ascend to Gotham’s throne.  
Ed’s jaw tightens at the unfairness of it!  
Oswald had been emotional, hot headed and violent but a capable leader, commanding and intimidating despite the fact most people considered him odd looking.  
Ed was smarter than Oswald had been and more dangerous (he was even taller than Oswald had been!) but he just couldn’t seem to make people believe it!  
Even he didn’t believe it.

Ed sighs heavily, his anger dissipating as quickly as it flared up.  
It’s easier to feel angry and jealous of Oswald.  
If he doesn’t, he just feels a sorrowful sense of loss and guilt.  
Another illogical, useless artefact he has to rid himself of before he can unveil himself.  
But if he can’t even generate the confidence to ‘perform’ in front of a mirror, how is he supposed to in front of an entire city?!

He adjusts his waistcoat and prepares to try his riddle delivery once more and is struck by the memory of helping Oswald dress.  
It had been useful education for Ed as Oswald had often offered his opinion on what would suit Ed and had in fact been responsible for reinvigorating Ed’s wardrobe in a manner that became a mayoral chief of staff.  
Oswald had been the one who had bought Ed the suit he intended to wear in his career as a villain, insisting that the green suited Ed’s pale skin and dark eyes. Ed had protested at the price tag but Oswald had simply waved a hand unconcernedly.  
Oswald had always known about fashion. He had likened it to necessary battle armour carefully assembled to wage mental warfare on an opponent.   
Ed had been fascinated by the analogy.  
And jealous that he hadn’t come up with it.

‘How did you do it?’ Ed wonders aloud, looking at the Oswald immortalized in the painting.

The image gives no reply and Ed realises that there is only one way to get the answer he seeks.

 

He crunches the pill between his teeth, feeling the delicate beads fall on his tongue and dissolve. The tingling sensation reminds him strangely of falling stars blinking out in darkness as he feels his heart begin to pound and the familiar, strange momentary burning behind his eyes.   
He places the pill box safely back into his pocket and stands back in front of the mirror.  
He notes that his pupils have dilated and that to his eyes, the room seems bathed in a haze that smells of saltwater and freshly turned earth.  
It won’t be long now.

 

He instinctively expects to feel some kind of presence behind him as he watches the pallid, glistening hands slide up his chest in the mirror but deep inside he knows he won’t. He exhales shakily as the ghostly hands caress him, mentally reassuring himself that the sound of his shirt rustling is just his imagination.  
He is control of this.

‘You’re overthinking things’, Oswald’s voice says from behind him, ‘As usual’.

‘How did you do it?’ Ed asks as he sees Oswald emerge from behind him.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the mirror, trying to ignore the fact that nobody is actually standing beside him. He’s deliberately kept the dosage low this time. He wants his wits about him to better analyse his problem.

‘Do what?’ Oswald asks, his shrug sending droplets from his sodden clothes scattering like rain, ‘Be myself?’

‘There must be more to it than that!’

‘Why’s that Ed? Because it’ll make you feel better?’

Ed’s mouth tightens at Oswald’s chuckle and he watches him pretend to check a non-existent watch on his wrist. Seaweed clings to Oswald’s ruined clothes and Ed shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the smell of brine in the air.

‘You do realise you’ve spent the last hour in front of this mirror posing? If you’re not making progress by now...’

Oswald lets the sentence hang because Ed doesn’t need him to finish it.

‘It's too soon. I'm not ready yet’.

He shudders as Oswald places a hand on his shoulder. For a second he thinks he can feel frigid water seeping through his shirt. It is a jarring, cold sensation at odds with the familiarity of the gesture.

‘You only think you’re not ready’, Oswald says, pale, glassy eyes staring deep into Ed’s with a strange intensity, ‘But I can help you. Help make you ready’.

Ed feels like a mouse staring into the hypnotic eyes of a bird of prey despite the obvious height difference between he and Oswald.  
This is how he wants people to feel when he looks at them.  
Hanging on his every word.  
Enthralled.  
Transfixed.  
Ed is so distracted by this longing that he gasps when Oswald’s hand suddenly strays to his face.  
He watches in the mirror as Oswald’s long finger traces down his cheek and shudders as he hears Oswald’s voice drop to a sensuous whisper.

‘Don't think. Feel’.

‘What are you-‘ Ed begins, slapping at Oswald’s hand as it trails beneath his chin.

It makes contact in the mirror but Ed touches only empty air.  
Oswald’s twisted smile is real enough.

‘No need to be coy Ed. We both know why I’m here. We both know what you want’.

Ed shakes his head but he knows Oswald is right.  
It’s only a token attempt at resistance.  
He knows where this is going: he’s known since he took the pill box out.

‘You need to relax’, Oswald continues, ‘You need _release’._

The last word seems to impossibly reverberate through Ed’s entire body, making every hair stand on end.  
Yes.  
It’s been stressful juggling his public face while trying to find his true self.  
Too much pressure.  
Pressure needs release.

He sees Oswald’s eyebrow quirk as he regards the green suit.

‘Green suits you. Since you’re so jealous. You _are_ jealous of me aren’t you?’

Ed gasps as he feels Oswald’s hand (his own hand) suddenly stroke his crotch.

‘Ah! Yes!’

‘What are you jealous of?’

Ed doesn’t answer. He’s too busy watching Oswald beginning to undo his belt in the mirror.  
The sound of his buckle clinking open is like a timer going off and Oswald presses for Ed to reply.

‘Answer me and I’ll reward you’, Oswald purrs, unzipping Ed’s fly.

Ed begins to answer but his breath hitches as he feels a hand reach inside his trousers.

‘What was that?’ Oswald prompts, halting his hand deliberately.   
Ed can feel Oswald’s fingertips (his fingertips) resting outside his briefs.

‘This. I’m jealous of this’, Ed babbles, looking hungrily at his reflection so he can entwine his fingers in Oswald’s hair, ‘Your power. You always made it look so easy. So confident. So…intimidating. How people were like putty in your ha-hands!’

Oswald (Ed) has yanked his trousers down and one hand is taking Ed’s cock out of the boxers.   
Ed is surprised at how erect it is, even at this early stage.   
In the mirror, Ed can see Oswald’s head tilted in amusement at the level of Ed’s arousal.

‘Mmm’, Oswald purrs, relishing in Ed’s compliments, ’What else?’

‘How..how easy you found it to…to-‘

‘Touch you?’

Ed throws his head back as Oswald swirls a thumb around the head of his cock. Although the touch is feather light, the sensation it causes is almost painful and it’s only then that Ed realises how much he has wanted this. 

‘I never touched you like this’, Oswald croons, ‘Oh, but you wanted me to didn’t you?’

‘Yes’, Ed sighs.

‘She never touched you like this, did she?’

Ed shakes his head vigorously.   
Kristen had refused point blank to pleasure him like this and there hadn’t been time to ‘explore’ that side of his relationship with Isabella.  
Even when he had been with his two lost loves, it had felt good but never felt like this.   
It hadn’t felt as intense as this.   
Not _intoxicating_ like this.

‘Would you like me to teach you? How to touch?’

This time Ed nods.

‘Beg me. On your knees’.

Ed closes his eyes in surrender and kneels.  
He doesn’t need them open.  
He has a very vivid imagination.

‘Please, teach me’, he begs.

He feels a hand running through his hair, ruffling it affectionately.  
With effort he is able to ignore the fact the angle is wrong for Oswald to be doing it.  
Secretly he’s always had a kink for being dominated and the imperiousness of Oswald’s sultry tone is like catnip to him.   
It doesn’t matter if he’s not real.  
He’s as real as Ed needs him to be.  
And he needs him. Right now.

‘You are beautiful enough to die for’, Oswald’s unseen voice says.

‘And to kill for?’ Ed challenges, pride not permitting him to proceed without some token attempt at resistance, ‘I’m not the only one who feels jealousy’.

Suddenly there is a cold hand around his neck and something is pressing against his lips.  
The grip is firm, not tight enough to hurt but clenched and powerful. The fingertips however rub his skin gently, an intriguing contrast that makes Ed’s breath hitch.  
Ed’s cock, exposed and yet impossibly warm pulses at the pressure of the fingertips against his skin as they swirl agonisingly slowly. 

He can feel his pulse quickening as his lips tighten instinctively against the probing, smooth surface pressing against them.

‘Take your medicine’, Oswald commands.

Ed loves the low pitch of Oswald’s voice. It layers the simple instruction with an air of irresistible command. He would have to employ that more often.

Ed finds his lips softening, allowing the second pill to pass his lips. He licks them, tasting the chemical coating of the capsule as he slides it into position between his teeth. He bites down and the crack of the capsule breaking is like thunder in his sensitive ears. Lighting dances on his tongue and clashes down his throat, mingling with the warmth suffusing his body.  
The storm inside him is building.

Oswald seems to sense the atmosphere too because the next thing Ed knows, there is a hand around his cock once more.

This time there’s no gentle teasing, just pure, rhythmic pumping and Ed cries out at the welcome sensation of being touched.  
Of being dominated. Of being enjoyed.  
Oswald’s (Ed’s) grip is like iron as he pistons his fist up and down.  
He feels his shirt torn open, buttons scattering as the fingers of the other hand tweak one sensitive, dusky nipple, the ticklish eroticism clashing with the delicious friction of the hand on Ed’s cock.

He throws his head back, frantically whispering 'oh dear' over and over again in a mindless mantra as his brain struggles to cope with the onslaught of sensation.

He's never experienced pleasure like this before.  
It’s almost painful as each thrust of his hips sends jolts of powerful pleasure through him, making his legs spasm beneath him.  
He writhes and bucks his hips forcefully with every pump. He feels his muscles tense and burn as he gasps and moans, teeth biting his swollen lip.  
He feels more than alive again: he feels as if he is coming undone, reshaping in the formless chaos of hedonistic pleasure that his chemical concoction has conjured up.  
His surrender is like a sacrifice, abandoning his restraint, rejecting all those times he’s denied this euphoria to himself!

In Ed’s mind, he sees frantic yet vivid flashes of the dreams he has had since the docks.  
He’s had to suppress them for so long but not anymore! Not anymore!   
There is a cool hand on his hip, gripping it tight, nails digging into his clammy flesh but still he bucks against them, desperately chasing every delicious drop of sensation he can!

‘That’s it’, he can hear a voice whispering but in his state of mindless bliss, he can’t tell if it’s his or Oswald’s, ‘That’s it. Don’t stop! Oh, _don’t_ stop! Fuck me! Oh _God_ fuck me!’

He thinks about Oswald taking him from behind, wrenching Ed’s head back by the hair as Ed moans in ecstasy, Oswald’s fingers scissoring his tight, moist passage, Oswald riding his cock mercilessly, smiling down at Ed as he screams his name, Oswald’s mouth around his cock, those sharp white teeth nipping and that hot tongue lathing and-and-!

Ed cums and his mouth snaps open like a snake’s yawning maw as he gives a hoarse, wordless cry of sheer exultation.  
His back arches almost languidly and he hisses through clenched teeth, bright starbursts dancing in his dilated pupils.

The fingers let go of his cock as it quivers and expels the liquid evidence of his frustration. Ed feels a cold breeze run up his back and slumps forward, catching himself before hitting the floor.   
He shivers in ecstasy, weak yet fulfilled.  
He stays on all fours for a moment, enjoying the erotic implications of the position as he breathes heavily and rides out the afterglow.

Ed feels moisture on his eyelids as he opens them slowly.  
He blinks to clear his hazy vision and he also feels the pills wearing off, leaving him shaking and exhilarated.  
He sits back, settling his weight on his legs. His fingers idly flick a fallen shirt button out of the way.  
The first thing he sees is that Oswald has gone, dismissed like some archaic summoned demon now that his task has been completed.  
The next thing Ed sees is the green suit, the shiny material glimmering in the sunlight from the windows.  
The clouds outside are clearing.  
Ed gazes up at his new suit in reverence and his mouth curls at his discarded, dishevelled clothes coated with his own seed that pool around him.  
They seem like a musty cocoon that he has outgrown: a faded shell hiding his brilliance.  
He feels lighter than he ever has before, free and unencumbered.  
Ready to fly.  
Ready to reveal himself and shine.  
Brighter and better than Oswald ever did.


End file.
